


girls on desks

by preromantics



Category: True Blood
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Your desk has seen much worse," Pam says, fixing her hair in the reflection of the mirror behind Eric's head.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	girls on desks

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 7/21/2010 for Porn Battle X. Prompts: grass stains, instruction.

Jessica isn't her type, strictly speaking. It's just -- she has tear tracks down her face, the red streaks staining her cheeks. She's so foolish to be upset over a human man. Or, Pam wouldn't strictly call him a man, boy, or maybe some sort of manchild, would be more appropriate. Pam tried to tell Jessica that, once over the phone when she'd called,  _again_ , in distress. (As soon as possible, Pam needed to find Jessica some friends. Not out of any good nature, Pam wasn't about to go finding people friends, because no one should even need friends, not vampires, at least, but Jessica sure as hell needed someone else to call other than Pam herself every time something went bad for her.)

Jessica's yellow dress has grass stains on the bottom, and the top collar has blood stains from where her tears had dripped down. 

It's that -- the state of the dress, truly awful, not that it was much to begin with -- that makes Pam move forward in Eric's office, not offering much explanation before she sweeps Jessica's dress up over her head. Jessica falls back onto Eric's desk, one of her arms going over her chest, a feeble form of protection, childish.

"I'm not going to do anything with you," Pam says, and she doesn't roll her eyes, because she's entirely above that, but it's a close thing. "You're not my type. I'm just going to get this dress cleaned."

She's barely gone for a beat with it -- she has people to do that sort of thing for her, late night dry cleaning. Or, Eric does, but she has them too. When she gets back to the office, Jessica is still leaning against the desk, arm crossed over her chest. 

Pam looks at her -- her bra is so sensible; it's black, like she might be trying to be sexy, or something, but it's also cotton, a push up with cheap lace at the top. Her underwear doesn't match, something which Pam considers a sort of pet peeve in anyone she considers taking or having sex with. Not that she's considering doing anything with Jessica, because she wouldn't ever get rid of her if she did, but -- the underwear is plain black, something out of some horrible chain store, or something. They don't look half bad on Jessica, because they sort of fit her, the black standing out against her pale skin, playing up the curve of her thighs.

Pam breathes out through her nose in annoyance. "Your dress should be done in about an hour or so, however long. Someone will bring it." She turns away because Jessica isn't saying anything, and she also looks like she might start talking about her broken heart or something again, and how boys are so shitty, or so fucking shitty, or whatever she'd say that Pam wouldn't want to hear. 

"Are you going to leave me?" Jessica asks, before Pam can even get a hand around the door handle. 

Pam clicks her heel on the floor. "I was about to," she says, short. 

Jessica doesn't say anything right away, and without turning around Pam can tell she's probably frowning, or crying again, or keeping her arm over the swell of her breasts, which would probably be nice with a better bra. Pam needs to go find a nice dancer, or some pretty blonde who smells divine. 

"Pam?" Jessica asks, quieter, like she was when she was hiccuping between her crying about her human relationship woes. (Pam has already planned to recount it all to Eric the next time she sees him, so he can share in her pain.)

"What?" Pam asks, turning around reluctantly. 

"I know this is -- probably a stupid thing to ask, and you don't care anyway, but there's just so much --"

"Spit it out," Pam says. If more people said what they wanted to without all the fucking preamble, Pam would like people who weren't herself a whole lot more. 

"How do you -- what is your type? You're always talking about your type, and how I'm not it, or how so and so isn't it, but how do you know? How would I know?" Jessica asks, quickly, and in far more words than needed. 

Pam shakes her head and steps back towards the desk. There are several ways she could approach this, none of which she particularly wants to get into, but it's either the crowd outside or Jessica here, and Pam isn't feeling particularly inclined to deal with customers tonight, or -- that's the best explanation for why she stays. 

"People have types. They like certain things," Pam says, gesturing with one hands. "What do you like?"

"I don't know what I like," Jessica says, on a sigh, so young. "How -- the hell am I supposed to know? I've only had Hoyt --" she says his name on a sigh, and Pam purses her lips -- "and it's not like I even had room to think about things when I was human. How am I supposed to know?"

"Cool it," Pam says. She's decidedly not frowning. Then she grins, looking at the bent way Jessica is holding herself on the desk, eyes a little wide, cheeks still stained with gritty red streaks. Pam might as well have a little fun -- not too much -- while she waits for Jessica's dress. 

It only takes a second, but Pam presses her hand to Jessica's thigh, runs it smoothly up to her hip, presses into the bone there, and stands right in front of Jessica. "How is that?" she asks. 

"What -- I," Jessica starts, but Pam cuts her off, shaking her head. 

"Just answer good or bad," Pam says. "It's not too hard. If you like something, say so, if you don't, say so." Pam's life would be easier if people just worked like that.

"Uh," Jessica says, her thigh tensing a little when Pam runs her hand back down. "Okay. That's alright."

Pam can do better than alright. She has pretty girls screaming for her multiple times a week, without even trying -- she's much better than  _alright_. 

Pam leans in fast, uses her free hand to unhinge Jessica's simple bra, her breast free and in front of Pam's face in an instant. She shoots a quick, slanted grin at Jessica, one eyebrow raised, before she takes one of Jessica's nipples between her lips, rolling it. 

"Good," Jessica says, somewhat hesitantly, and Pam is surprised she didn't have to prompt her. Pam bites down a little, her fangs not out yet, and Jessica makes a little noise. 

When Pam dips down, trailing her lips down Jessica's stomach, held tense and taught, she has to nudge Jessica's legs apart slightly to get them open. 

"Are you?" Jessica asks, looking down at Pam. She's leaning back against the desk now, her nipples hard on her chest. Pam liked the taste on her skin, something a little dark, but plain, and she's almost tempted to head back up, show Jessica the full extent of how pleasurable pain could be on her nipples, fangs to skin, but she doesn't.

"Of course," Pam says, "it wouldn't be very much fun if I didn't."

Jessica swallows, visibly, which is almost sort of cute. Pam spreads her thighs a little wider with her hands, lets Jessica scoot back more comfortably on the desk. 

"No one's ever --" Jessica starts, the corner of her mouth up a tiny bit when Pam looks up. 

Pam laughs, somewhat at Jessica -- the eternal virgin, inside  _and_  out, and also because it's sort of a treat. "Well, then you just sit back."

Jessica settles back some more, shifting her hips. She smells nice, vampire but, young, sort of sweet. Pam drags her nose and her lips dry down the front of Jessica's underwear, the plain cotton so primitive and somehow arousing. She wants to be rough, like she's gotten into the pattern of being with others, she wants to rip Jessica's underwear off of her and just dive in, maybe even with her fangs out, but she doesn't. 

Instead, she slides Jessica's plain underwear down her hips after a pause, and then spreads Jessica's lips before she leans all the way in to lick, kicking her own heels off as she does, because the toes are pinching with the way she's angled. 

Jessica makes small noises; usually Pam likes loud ones, something about being well-received, but Jessica's are sort of delicious. She whines, a little, and bucks up into Pam's mouth, rocking into Pam's tongue as she sucks Jessica's clit, moves down in erratic patterns, keeping her fangs down, even though Pam wants nothing more than to bite down on the flesh of Jessica's thigh while she fucks two fingers up inside her. 

Jessica starts saying,  _good_ , too, like the word is a moan, which is nice, and Pam wants to get a little rougher -- she's not very vanilla, ever -- so she does, shoving Jessica further onto the desk, sucking harder and crouching up so she can get fingers inside. Jessica is tight, clenching around her fingers as Pam sucks on her clit harder, dragging her teeth in a practiced way over the top, just lightly. She drags the nails of her free hand down Jessica's thigh, too, eating up the noises Jessica makes, digging in hard enough to cut the skin, prickles of blood barely making their way to the surface before the superficial cuts heal over.

Jessica comes once, her voice raising up into a gasping whine, but Pam speeds up, fucks into her harder, digs her nails in and sucks, and gets her to come again, breathless and shuddering against the desk. It's nice, and when Pam stands, not big on recovery time, she grins a little at Jessica's wide eyes and open lips, where she's panting with her head barely on the desk anymore, her hair dangling off the side. 

Pam moves over quickly to get at her lips, letting her fangs come out and kissing Jessica open-mouthed, wet and biting, splitting Jessica's lips in several places, swallowing the small, whining groans she makes. Fuck, Pam had been holding back, with biting and with herself, and she's a little surprised at how turned on she is herself.

She leans back and goes quickly to the door, grabbing Jessica's dress where it's hanging neatly outside in a dry cleaning bag, right where Pam asked it to be left. She'll have to tip the service for being particularly speedy. 

"You should get home," Pam says, watching Jessica dress after she hands the dress back to her wordlessly. Her head is down, her lips swollen and her hair a mess -- not that it was in much of a state when she first arrived, but still. It's not a bad look, and -- although Jessica isn't typically her type, she looks good in the moment. Pam will have to say something about that, how types change, how there are exceptions to every rule, but she doesn't feel like getting chatty with Jessica right now.

Jessica opens her mouth to say something, but thinks better of it -- a nice surprise -- and she just nods, slipping into her plain sandals again. "I'll go," Jessica says. She laughs a little, or makes a noise like a laugh, sort of light. "Thanks for -- that."

"That was nothing," Pam says, honestly. She doesn't turn to watch Jessica leave, but she does lean down to slip her shoes on, to get the straps right again.

Pam hears Jessica make a noise, and then a sort of bumbling apology from behind the door. She presses her jacket down in the front before she exits the office into the hall and only raises an eyebrow when she sees Eric. 

"Pam," Eric says, drawn out from where he's leaning against the wall across from the door. "My desk? Really?" 

"Your desk has seen much worse," Pam says, fixing her hair in the reflection of the mirror behind Eric's head. She expected him to say something in regards to her choice of partners, not her choice of available surfaces.

"All seen under your supervision, I'm sure," Eric says, but this time on a sort of fond note. Pam presses her lips together and finishes her hair. 

"You know it will be all your fault when she starts hanging around," Eric says, starting to walk away, "and I'm not going to have some intervention with Bill for his silly child, so -- a forewarning -- this is all yours to handle, Pam."

"I can handle it," Pam says, rolling her eyes at him, catching up with his stride down the hall. She thinks about how Jessica will definitely come back, and how Bill might come to get her, angry -- Pam always thinks it's sort of fun when he's angry, an opinion most definitely not shared by Eric -- and how Pam will have to teach Jessica so much more, over Eric's desk and in the basement and everywhere. She can definitely handle it. 

"If you say so," Eric says. Pam's pretty confident, and she enjoys the click of her own heels as she walks past him down the hall, out into the crowd at the bar.


End file.
